Commercial Suicide Is Painless

So Saturday morning before going to the Farmers' Market to buy delicious stuff to make for dinner all weekend (how about a little halibut in garlic chive, Hangar One Buddha's Hand Vodka butter?) and then to Home Improvement to buy things to continue the endless painting of the house detail--he cooks, he does home repair, but sorry ladies, he's already happily married--I stop in at Borders still trying to buy the new Eno CD. I must order the CD, but of course buy other things instead--the new Graham Parker, because someone has to still care (and it's worth caring about, actually, catchy and venomous as you might hope) and the new Son Volt (hoping some semblance of a band makes Jay Farrar a bit less mopey than his solo stuff).

But then there's this huge line at the cash registers, not that the audio floor was crowded. I am confused until I remember that it's release time for "Sherman Potter and the Half-Dressed Klinger," the 80th installment of the Colonel Potter books. The clerk doesn't laugh when I ask if I get a discount for not buying anything wizard related.

And I do feel too pleased with my obscure self walking out of the store knowing that the two CDs I purchased will barely sell as many copies as the Potter book has pages.